by Gina Azzi
I notice the glances in our direction. I spot the narrowed eyes on our embrace, the whispers behind cupped hands. The attention we’re garnering speaks to the white lie I created.
I should shut it down. Right now, I should back away, create some distance between Chloe and me. Let people suspect things between us without really knowing. But I don’t want to. For the first time in years, I don’t do the right thing. The noble thing.
Instead, I tip my head in the direction of the nosy, desperate-for-gossip bar patrons. “Want to make this real?”
She shakes her head, confused. “Make what real?”
“Our blossoming relationship, of course.”
Her eyes widen and she gasps.
I drop my head the tiniest bit, lifting my hand to cup her cheek. The couple on the other side of Chloe abruptly end their conversation. Necks swing in our directions, eyes wide and waiting.
Chloe blushes furiously, her tongue darting out, swiping across her lower lip. And Christ if I don’t want to lean down and pull it in between my teeth, nip once before kissing the sting away.
“What do you have in mind?” she whispers, her voice throaty.
Sexy.
So different than the Chloe I know and yet, so fitting.
My other hand settles on her hip, resting there. I like the feel of her curves under my palm. I like the heat of her skin. I especially like the uptick in her breathing. I affect Chloe Crawford which is somewhat of a relief considering she sure as hell affects me. Not that it will ever come to anything but right now, I cling to the trust in Chloe’s eyes, knowing mine mirror the sentiment. Yeah, we can do this for a summer. We’re already doing it.
“Take a walk on the beach with me, Sunshine?”
She blinks once, a little dazed. Slowly, she nods and I grin. I pull out my wallet to toss down some bills. Chloe threads her fingers with mine as I lead her toward the side entrance, where the salty air and whispering waves beckon.
I feel eyes in between my shoulder blades, attention prickling the back of my neck. I squeeze Chloe’s hand and she smiles up at me, sweet and knowing and beautiful.
We push outside and her smile turns into uninhibited laughter.
“Oh my God, Austin Merrick.” She twirls toward me, dropping my hand and walking backwards toward the stretch of sea. “You are a natural.”
“A natural?” I repeat, trying to hold back my grin. Why the hell am I smiling so much anyway?
She nods. “You sold that better than I could have hoped.” She gestures toward the hotel.
“You did pretty good yourself, Ms. Crawford.”
She grins, her dimple flashing. “What do you want to do? We have…” She pauses to check her watch. “About an hour before dinner starts.”
I shrug, toeing off my shoes. The cool sand rises between my toes. I breathe in the heavy air and slowly exhale. “I can’t remember the last time I was at the beach.”
“Seriously?”
“Not like this. I may have driven past beaches during away games but not just on my own. Not when it’s been quiet and dark and just…”
“A place for reflection?” Chloe guesses, reading my mind.
I nod.
She steps closer, her fingers threading with mine again. “You got a lot going on up there, Austin.”
“Thought I was just some dumb jock?” I tease.
She snorts. “Please. I’ve always known you’ve been more than just hockey.”
“What do you mean?” I’m curious to know what she thinks about me. Especially now. After all these years. How have I changed? For the better? Worse?
“You’ve always cared so much about your team, way beyond how team dynamics affect a game or a season. You’ve always cared about them like they’re your brothers. Right now, it seems like you’ve got a lot on your mind. Like you’re working through things.”
I sigh, glancing over her head at the rolling waves. “Feels that way too,” I admit.
She squeezes my hand. “Want to talk about it? You know I’ll listen.”
I stare at her for a beat, knowing she really will listen. She’ll probably even understand. I shake my head. “It was a long time ago, Chlo. A teammate got injured and it was on me, but I don’t want to get into all the details tonight. Tonight, I just want to enjoy the moment.”
She tips her head in understanding, a blaze of compassion crossing her face. “If you change your mind and want to talk…”
I nod at her offer.
“Well, I have something that will cheer you up.”
“Really?” I waggle my eyebrows. “How far are we taking things between us, Crawford?”
She rolls her eyes. “Get your head out of the gutter. Besides, Maebelle’s ice cream is better than sexy times.”
“Not if you’re doing it right,” I mutter.
Chloe gasps and I grin, enjoying her reactions to silly things I say. Just like she did when we were kids. Oh, how I used to drive her nuts with my creepy crawlers and pretend snakes. She fell for my tricks every damn time, too.
She wrinkles her nose. “You’re probably right.”
Hold up.
I slow my gait, my gaze sharpening on her. “What?”
She sighs, glancing away. But I catch the blush on her cheeks in the shifting light of dusk. “Steve used to say, jeez, this is embarrassing. Clearly, I drink too much around you and forget myself. It’s nothing.”
“Tell me,” I demand.
She lifts an eyebrow. “Like you’ve been so forthcoming with all of your secrets?”
I shake my head. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“It didn’t involve dipshit Steve. Or sex.”
“It’s the vodka talking.” She backpedals. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I narrow my eyes at her, waiting her out. Chloe always cracks under the silence.
After three seconds she heaves out a sigh and I bite back my grin.
“Steve used to say if I was thinner, you know, sexier, that he’d want to, that we’d have done, Jesus.” She blushes furiously and even though she’s embarrassed, I wait for her to finish her sentence.
Because anger is swirling dangerously in my bloodstream. It burns through me like a wildfire and I have to work not to crush Chloe’s fingers in mine. “You’d what?”
“Have better sex. More…sex. That it would have been…better.”
“He’s a fucking liar.” I stop walking.
Chloe freezes beside me. I grasp her shoulders and turn her so I can stare directly into her eyes.
“He’s a fucking liar, Chloe. If you believe anything I say, trust this. It was good for Steve. Fucking great for Steve. But men like Steve suck in bed. Let me guess, he never got you off?”
She lowers her gaze, her cheeks painfully red.
Fuck. I hook my finger under her chin and lift her face to mine again. “Did he?” I whisper, burning from the inside out with curiosity. I don’t know what the hell I even want her to say. If she says yes, I’ll be pissed. And if she says no, I’ll also be pissed because what the fuck has he been doing with her for five goddamn years?
“No.” It’s a whisper on the ocean breeze and yet, it bangs in my head like a firecracker.
“Because he sucks,” I explain. “And he has to make excuses for himself. In order to make him feel more like a man, he has to tear you down. But he’s so fucking wrong, Chlo. Being with you, intimately, would be hitting the goddamn lottery for any man.” My voice practically trembles with anger and…and what? I can’t even name the emotions rocking through me but they’re there. Intense, powerful, and very present. “But especially for a piece of shit like him.”
She works a swallow, her eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them. Her mouth parts and she’s so trusting, so goddamn vulnerable, that a part of me wants to dip my head, capture her lips, and kiss her hard. Hard enough to prove that she’s worthy of a relationship a million times better than what she had with Steve, and hard enough to erase any lin
gering thoughts of him from her mind entirely.
Instead, I curl my fingers into my palms and step back, adding space between us so I can get my head on straight before it rolls all the way off.
Shit. I drag in a deep breath.
“There’s no ice cream on the planet better than sex with the right person,” I mutter, shaking my head. “But right now, I could fucking use it. So, lead us to Maebelle’s.”
She nods and begins walking, her back straight.
After a few paces, I reach back out and grab her hand.
And when she lets me, I know she’s not angry with me. But maybe with Steve. Or maybe with herself.
And I know firsthand, that that’s the worst kind of anger there is. Because it festers, like an open wound, infecting all your good thoughts, all your warm feelings.
Sunshine’s always been all good, all warmth, all soul. Always.
8
Chloe
“Butter pecan. With rainbow sprinkles, please,” I order my ice cream cone.
“Rainbow sprinkles?” Austin hip checks me next to the counter.
I nod, unable to look at him. After that showdown on the beach, I feel completely out of sorts. Like I’m drowning from the inside out but also burning up.
Because, wow. The heat in Austin’s gaze was scorching. But the conviction in his tone was…real.
I shake my head to clear it from all the thoughts I shouldn’t be having. Especially when Austin’s eyes are on mine. “Yep. Rainbow sprinkles are magical.”
“Magical?” He lifts an eyebrow, his tone conversational.
I nod, grinning my thanks at the guy behind the counter as he passes me my cone. I take a taste of the ice cream and moan. God, I forgot how good it is. “Sprinkles make everything better,” I explain. “And I can’t remember the last time I had ice cream.”
Austin’s eyes narrow but his attention is pulled away as it’s his turn to order.
“Cookies and cream,” he asks and I wrinkle my nose. “What?”
“Cookies and cream?”
He snorts. “What’s wrong with cookies and cream?”
I shrug. “Nothing. It’s just, kind of outdated, you know?”
“Outdated?” He points at me. “You’re eating rainbow sprinkles.”
“They’re happiness.”
“Would you like to add sprinkles?” the guy behind the counter asks Austin.
Austin rolls his eyes as I grin.
“Sure, chocolate, please,” Austin says.
“Now you’re being a rule breaker,” I tell him, taking another bite of my ice cream.
“You’re the one breaking rules, Chlo. Ice cream before dinner?” Austin snickers and pulls out his wallet to pay for our cones.
“Oh, I got it,” I say, trying to balance my cone and dig into my purse for my wallet.
“Stop.”
I look up. “Austin, I dragged you to—”
“Quit it, Chlo.” He hands over a twenty-dollar bill. “It’s sprinkles.”
I grin and he smiles and for a second, it’s like we’re kids again, riding our bikes to the park and stopping for an ice cream cone on the way back.
“Thanks, Aus.”
“Don’t mention it.” He hooks an arm around my shoulders and steers us out of Maebelle’s.
I don’t know if it’s the familiarity of Martha’s Vineyard, the bump of Austin’s arm against my shoulder as we walk along the beach, or the fact that I’ve gotten the dreaded meet and greet with Steve and Brittney out of the way, but I finally relax. After weeks of feeling like I was on the cusp of falling apart, I find my footing. My shoulders dip the smallest amount, my inhales are easier to draw, and the world doesn’t look quite as hopeless as it did yesterday.
The balmy ocean breeze ruffles through my hair. The ocean waves lap gently at the shoreline. The sunset colors the sky with brilliant strokes of orange and pink. Butter pecan melts on my tongue and my toes dig deeper into the sand.
Something shifts. Something small but significant and this time, when I glance up at Austin, a swell of gratitude rises to my lips.
“Thank you, Austin.”
He grins down at me, wrapping an arm casually around my waist. “You’re going to be okay, Chlo.”
I nod, believing the words for the first time since I learned the truth about Steve and Brittney.
You’re going to be okay.
He’s right. I am.
Austin and I are the talk of the engagement party. While I briefly worried that Marissa would feel overshadowed, the pure joy on my friend’s face when she pulled me into a hug dashed that concern.
“He’s perfect!” Marissa whisper-shrieks.
I blush but when I glance at Austin, chatting amiably with Adam, I can’t deny Marissa’s observation.
“It’s so romantic, how you guys reconnected after so many years,” she continues.
I nod along with her version of recent events because it’s a perfect backstory and close enough to the truth.
“Adam is angling for a bromance,” she adds and we both laugh. “You look happy, Chloe.”
“I am happy,” I say, relieved that I actually mean the words. In this moment, right now, at an engagement party in Martha’s Vineyard, in the same room as Brittney and Steve, I am happy. My gaze darts to Austin again and I don’t want to read into how much his presence here is responsible for my current emotional state.
Marissa squeezes my hand. When I look up, her blue eyes are solemn. “What Steve did to you was shitty. Brittney too. Adam and I talked about it and—”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I want to,” she sighs. “It’s stupid and I shouldn’t care but with Steve working for Adam’s dad and—”
“Honestly,” I squeeze back, “I’m okay. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m here for you and your marriage to Adam. Yes, seeing Steve with Brittney hurts.” My eyes flit back to Austin. He meets my gaze and lifts his chin, silently asking if I’m okay. I smile and dip my head yes. “But not as much as I thought it would.”
It’s true. I thought seeing Brittney in Steve’s arms would feel like a knife in my back all over again. And yeah, it sucks. A lot. But witnessing his betrayal firsthand and coming to terms with the fact that I could have been legally bound to a broken relationship, is slowly starting to penetrate my hurt and humiliation. It’s making me feel…better.
“Good.” Marissa shifts her weight so we’re both looking at Austin and Adam. “Because Austin is a much better man than Steve.”
I glance at my friend, surprised by the sincerity in her tone. She’s known Austin for two minutes and Steve for years. Realization dawns. Did Marissa know about Steve and Brittney’s affair?
She glances at me and there’s no guilt in her expression.
No. And even if she did, does it matter? She knows enough to surmise that the man I brought to her engagement party is so much worthier than the man who once placed a diamond on my finger.
“You’re right,” I agree.
She bumps her hip against mine. “Thanks for coming this weekend.”
“Of course,” I respond automatically.
Marissa smiles softly. “It can’t be easy, Chloe. And I know I stuffed an entire year of wedding events into a single summer.”
I snort because that’s the truth.
“But you’re making it look a hell of a lot easier than it is. I appreciate you being here. I’m happy you’re happy and I hope to see Austin at the wedding in August.”
I smile, not confirming his presence just yet. Even though Austin and I agreed to be each other’s summer dates, I know firsthand how everything can change in a moment. Marissa’s wedding is still two months away and as much as I want to bring him, as much as I’m planning to bring him, I don’t want to jinx it.
“Let’s get a drink,” I say instead.
“Let’s,” she agrees, linking our arms together.
On our walk to the bar, we pass Brittney and I note the color high on Marissa’s
cheeks. The truth is, Marissa is an amazing friend and Brittney is a shitty one. While I know Abbi would strongly object, I decide to make this easier, better, for Marissa and her wedding season.
“Brittney, we’re taking a bridesmaid shot. Come on,” I offer as we pass.
She looks up, her mouth dropping open. I feel Steve’s gaze on my cheek and Austin’s glance on the center of my back but I don’t turn to look at either man. I’m doing what’s right for me, right now.
From now on, that should be my guiding principle. I’m going to do what is best for me, my life, and my relationships. Marissa’s friendship is one I’d like to keep and so, I’ll do what I can to make sure she has the wedding of her dreams, even if one of her bridesmaids doesn’t deserve the honor.
“Um, okay,” Brittney stutters, linking her arm with Marissa’s.
The three of us line up at the bar, putting on one hell of a show of solidarity for all the party guests who know our sordid history. But when the tequila hits the back of my throat, more of my anxiety, more of my doubts and insecurities, fade away.
I smack my lips and smile. Coming to the engagement party was definitely the right thing to do. But bringing Austin has made all the difference.
As if he can read my thoughts, the hockey heartthrob appears behind me, his arm snaking around my waist.
“How many shots have you had?” he murmurs, his breath skating over the shell of my ear.
I turn in his arms, my back pressing into the ledge of the bar. Instead of backing up, Austin shuffles forward a half step, until our chests are nearly touching. In my peripheral vision, I note the way Brittney and Marissa are staring at us. Brittney with envy, Marissa with excitement. But when my gaze latches onto Austin’s, everything around me fades into the background. Everything grows out of focus except for him and the intensity in his sapphire eyes.
“Enough to want to dance,” I admit.
He grins, slow and lazy, like the sun peeking out from behind a cloud.
As if on cue, Ed Sheeran’s song “Hearts Don’t Break Around Here,” floats through the room.